


Near Misses

by Quillaninc, randi2204



Series: Near Misses [2]
Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Voltron: Lion Voltron, Voltron: Vehicle Voltron
Genre: Angst, Battle, Fleet of Doom, Insecurity, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillaninc/pseuds/Quillaninc, https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time moves on... but does Lance?</p><p>(Set in the Lion Voltron/Vehicle Voltron Fleet of Doom crossover... with a little tweaking by us. *grin*)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** WEP owns Voltron in all its incarnations. We just like crossover Fleet of Doom fun.

Sven stood, staring up at the battlements of the Castle of Lions.  It had been a long time.  But the castle, though scored and scorched by laser fire, was still unbroken.  Nothing had changed here.

But still, everything had changed.  He lowered his eyes to the entryway into the castle, and wondered again why he had felt so compelled to return here.

_"All my relationships are about leaving."_  He could still hear Lance's slightly bitter words.  They had been ringing in his ears since the moment he'd boarded the shuttle to return with Romelle to Pollux.

Taking a deep breath, Sven straightened his shoulders and walked past the guards.  They recognized him, or had been told to expect him; in any case, they didn't challenge him.  And that was good.

He needed to find Lance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Having exhausted all other possibilities, he finally made his way towards the Control Room, thinking that Lance was probably on duty.  His mind wasn't quite on the ball; he was caught up with what, exactly, he was going to say to ... his friend? lover? ex? Heck, he wasn't even sure what to _call_ Lance any more.  Which was probably why he never heard the sound of running footsteps down the corridor.

"Ooof!"  A solid body careened into him, knocking him sideways with the impact, and he staggered.

"Oy!" a familiar voice gasped, and strong hands grasped Sven's shoulders to prevent them both from sprawling across the floor. "Hey, sorry about ...."

Sven looked up into surprised blue eyes, instinctively drinking in everything he could about the man he had most wanted to see ... and had dreaded.

Lance's arms fell away.  "Sven," he whispered softly.

The way Lance pulled away from him was disconcerting, to say the least.  He hadn't been expecting emphatic hugs and hard kisses, but this ... recoiling, almost, from even the slightest touch ... that hurt.  It hurt more than he would like to admit.

"Lance ..." _I missed you_. But the words caught in his throat and would not be said.  Instead, he continued to study his ... _My lover_ , he told himself firmly.  Lance's hair was slightly longer than he remembered, falling into eyes wide with shock ...

Shock?  Didn't Keith relay the message that he was coming?

A tentative smile quivered on the edge of Lance's lips.  "Hey," he replied, his voice only just above the whisper it had been.  His evident surprise faded a little, to be replaced by ... Sven wasn't sure ... a softness?  "What're you doing here?"

"Didn't Keith tell you?"

Lance shook his head slightly.  "Ahm, no ... I've just gotten off duty, and ... well, everything's all off kilter today, what with all the messages back and forth about these latest Drule attacks."  He gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry 'bout that.  I guessed I should've worked it out when we got the call from your shuttle.  There's not too many Polluxian envoys on our books, after all ... is there?" 

Sven shook his head.  "No, I guess not ..." He didn't miss the slightly accusing tone, but chose not to respond to it.  It wouldn't do any good to get into a blazing row here in the corridor, he thought.  _Not when we can do it properly in private later._

Nothing had changed.  But everything was still different.

Despite the fact that he _needed_ to talk to Lance, he still had no idea what to say.  So the first words that came to mind tumbled out.

"When are we leaving?"

"We?" Lance blinked.

"Ja, _we_."  Sven smiled.  "I get to go along for the ride.  Backup pilot and all that."

For some reason unknown to Sven, Lance's chin went up a notch, defiantly.  "Well, then," he replied somewhat offhand. "You'll have to speak to the Captain about mission details."

Sven was taken aback at the cold words.  This wasn't like him at all. 

No, on second thought, it was _just_ like him.  He always took refuge behind his wall of sarcasm and unfeeling when things came out that might hurt him.  This wasn't so very different ...

The words still stung, though, and he had to school himself into replying in the same cool manner.  "That's no more than I expected.  Where can I find ... the Captain?" It was hard not to say ‘Keith’, he mused.  But if Lance is going to be all formal ...

Lance shrugged, his nonchalant air poised like a shield.  "Who knows.  Probably working out the finer details with Coran, I guess."  Shoving his hands in his pockets, for want of anything else sensible to do with them – not to mention, to keeping them far, far away from the temptation that was Sven personified – Lance nodded his head in the direction he had been taking before this ... encounter.

"Shall we?"

Sven gestured for Lance to precede him down the hall.  But as the other crossed in front of him, he grabbed Lance's wrist and said, "But we'll talk later."  It wasn't meant to be a question, but his voice rose at the end nevertheless.

Lance's characteristic grin slid into place as he stepped forward.  "Well, I damn well hope so, or I'm gonna be in a lot of trouble if my backup won't speak to me!"  He sobered a fraction at the look of frustrated disgust Sven shot him, and added seriously, "But, yeah ... we'll talk.  K?"

Sven nodded and released Lance's arm, then followed him as he started down the hall.

Trying to ease into the subject he truly wanted to discuss, he asked, "Where were you going in such a hurry?"

In spite of himself, Lance chuckled.  "Hey, you know me, Sven ... always in a hurry to get _somewhere_ , right?"

"Yeah," Sven murmured, softly enough that Lance thought it was just his imagination.  "I know you." 

When Lance glanced at him quizzically, he just shook his head.  "How are things here? " he asked instead.  "You hook up with anyone yet?"  As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to rip out his tongue.  _Very nice, Sven_ , he thought angrily.  _Very diplomatic_.

And by the filthy look shot at him, it seemed Lance was even _less_ impressed with Sven's tact than Sven himself was.  "What's it to ya?"

Sven gave a half hearted shrug and slid his own hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers.  "Oh, nothing really.  I was just wondering how things were.  That's all."  He offered Lance a tiny, apologetic smile for good measure.

The uneasy tension between them dissolved somewhat with Lance's heavy sigh.  "Oh.  Sure."  For a moment, the only sound was the clicking of boot heels as they walked in silence.  "The answer's no, by the way," Lance tossed out casually as he tilted his own half-grin in Sven's direction.  "But thanks for asking."

Sven felt his smile grow slightly.  "You're welcome."  Lance glanced at him again, eyes twinkling slightly in amusement.  Feigned or not, it was still nice to see.  _Try not to stick your boot in your mouth again, all right?_ Sven reminded himself.

A few more paces down the hallway, then Lance chuckled.  "So, enjoying the taste of boot leather for a change?"  Sven blinked with surprise at how accurately Lance had read him, eliciting a genuine, teasing laugh from the Red Lion pilot.  "Hey, I know a thing or two about you, too, y'know," he winked, then playfully nudged Sven with his shoulder, throwing the other man slightly off balance.

Sven gave a soft, husky laugh, even as he staggered into the wall.  "So you do."  He leaned against the wall for a moment, just studying the man he hadn't seen or touched or even talked to in such a long time ...

Sven's laugh ... Lance couldn't control his shiver.  It had always done things to him, as had that accent.  He had to admit, he’d always been a sucker for an accent.  He moved slowly, until he was standing just in front of Sven.  He wasn't sure what had drawn him over, so close to temptation; he just knew he couldn't stay away.

Then Sven reached out to touch him, his smoky grey eyes captivating ...

"I missed you, Lance," he breathed.

For the briefest of moments, so short Sven wasn't even certain it had happened, Lance started to lean towards that delicious touch.  But, once again, his mind got in the way, and he reluctantly jerked back.  His eyes darkened with his palpable distress, and he took a hesitant step away from Sven, not knowing where to look.

"Uh ... no .. Sven, I ... I can't do this right at the moment, k?"  Warily, he lifted his gaze to the man he had be so, so close to ... until Doom had come between them.  "Please?  Can we do this later?"

Sven’s hand hovered in the air a second, then he let it fall to his side, and nodded reluctantly.  It was so hard to rein in his emotions, now that they had finally worked their way to the surface.  But he knew Lance.  He knew that he had pushed too hard ... despite the fact that it felt to him that he hadn't pushed hard enough.

Lance needed time and space to deal with all of this ...

Sven smiled gently, trying to ease Lance's discomfort.  "Let's find Keith, so I can get briefed on what's expected."  He straightened slowly away from the wall, giving Lance every opportunity to move away.

Lance jerked his head once in assent, and took off down the corridor again.  Once more, the only sound was the ring of their boots, as neither dared to speak further. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keith stood, at the rec room windows, watching the stars go by. Now a definite threat had been identified and a plan of affirmative action established, a previously unknown secret regarding the Castle of Lions had been revealed. 

He realised with no small irony that his facial expressions when what he had thought to be a stable, immovable edifice almost magically transformed into a fully operational Space Fortress would remain the butt of many a joke in days to come  … _if_ they were lucky!  As it was, it felt quite disconcerting to be surrounded by both familiar, almost homely surroundings _and_ the never ending depths of space both at the same time.

He frowned a little, now deep in thought.

“This will be a tough challenge,” he remarked, turning to face the rest of the room.  “But at least we’ll have friends.”

“You mean ... the guys from the OTHER Voltron force?” Lance questioned suddenly.

Hunk  nodded.  “Yeah, Coran said that we’re gonna join forces.”

 “That’ll be great!” Pidge left his position beside Hunk, and stood next to Keith by the windows.  “My brother Chip is on their team!  And we’ve all got friends from the space academy.”  From his reflection in the window, it seemed that the youngest member of their team was lost in thought, and when he smiled, Sven knew he was remembering the fun that he and his brother had enjoyed at the academy.

 “Remember our karate lessons?” Hunk asked, somewhat rhetorically.  They all remembered them very well.  “Me and Rocky used to go one on one.  He was quite a guy.”

With a laugh, Lance tried to top him.  "I remember when Cliff first came to the academy.  He was hanging around by the pool, and Wolo and I just yanked him right in!"

A dreamy smile drifted across his face.  "Y'know, I gotta admit, Cliff's not all that badly built, if y'know what I mean.  Hell, he looked almost as good in a pair of speedos as ...."

Suddenly, he trailed off, seeming to come back to himself as he looked around nervously.

"As good as who, Lance?" Pidge asked curiously.  He didn't exactly expect Lance's reaction, though.  As a dark flush crept up Lance's neck, accompanied by a distinctly uncomfortable look, mischief lit Pidge's eyes.  "C'mon, Lance ... tell us ... who's this mystery guy?"

"Ahm ... no one in particular," Lance hedged.  Unfortunately, at that moment his eyes drifted in Sven's direction, and he became snared in the hard iciness he found in the other man's eyes.

_Shit.  Now what do I say?_ he thought helplessly.

Sven was surprised at the undeniably ... _blissful_ expression that crossed Lance's face, but the words were completely unexpected.  His eyes narrowed, and he scowled.  Who was Lance thinking about?  Who had made him so happy?

_And why didn't he ever tell me about it?_

He was certain that Lance's minute smile of appeasement – the second that day, mind you – was meant to make him feel better ... but it didn't.

Eyes flickered from one to another, right around the room, as the rest of the team picked up on the awkward tension that had begun emanating from their two friends.  Even Pidge looked distinctly uncomfortable, aware that somehow his friendly teasing had brought this on.

It was Allura, ever the peacemaker, who finally cut through the silence.  "You know," she said wistfully, "I’ve never met any of them, but afterward, maybe some of the girls will come visit me on Arus ..."

Relieved, Pidge laughed.  "I know Ginger would LOVE that!"

And as quickly as it had sprung up, that uneasy feeling was gone, caught up in Keith's reminiscence on the shooting match he'd once had with Jeff, and Hunk's joking remark that it must have been the longest match in history, because neither of them missed a damn shot.

But, from then on, there were two of their crew who uttered not a word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Coran sent them all off to bed like children, admonishing them to rest while they could, Sven did not take his eyes off Lance.  He knew Lance felt the pressure of his gaze, too, because he would not look at him, would not even acknowledge his existence.

When the team filed out of the rec room, Lance was first out the door, but Sven was right behind him.  "Lance, wait."

The others, knowing they did not want to be party to whatever was going on between Lance and Sven, quickly made their way down the corridor, talking loudly about how great it would be to see their friends again.

Slowly, reluctantly, Lance turned to face Sven.

"Sven ... I'm kinda tired.  Do you mind if we ...?"  Lance winced slightly at the sudden cold look which inevitably gave Sven that impenetrable air he was so well known for.  He had known it'd be a long shot to try and worm his way out of this tonight, after everything else that had happened today, but he had figured it was worth a go.

"I came here to work things out," Sven said frostily.  "I'm willing to give it a try.  Obviously, you're not."

Lance shook his head, more to himself than anyone.  "Y'know, Sven ... as much as I appreciate the sentiment and all, the fact is your timing is just plain lousy!"  With a resigned sigh, he gestured for Sven to go back into the rec room with him, and slumped into the couch without even waiting to see if he'd follow.

Sven clenched his fists, then forced himself to relax as he trailed Lance back inside.  "Lousy timing?" he asked, not caring any more that his anger was plain in his tone.  "I didn't think reconciliation _had_ a time that was best!  Excuse me for wanting to talk to you as we face certain death!"

He strode over to the windows and stared unseeing out into space.

"Yeah, well, it's a shame you didn't think about that before now, then, isn't it?"  Lance shot back.  "I mean, hell, you've had the whole _year_ since you came back to talk to me, but no, not you!  You wait until I'm so damned overloaded I don't know _which_ way's up, and _then_ you decide the time's come for a deep and meaningful.  Sheesh!  And you wonder why I say your timing's lousy!"

The momentum from his self-righteous anger now spent, he collapsed like a rag-doll, elbows on knees, arms dangling.  "I wasn't kidding when I said I was tired, ok?  And I just don't have the energy to fight with you right now.  And, you know damn well that's what's gonna happen, as well as I do.  Can't we just call it a truce for now, and deal with this later _if_ we get home?"

Almost, he gave in.  Almost ...  but it was the "if", the possibility that they might not make it back this time, even with help ... Sven found he couldn't let it go.

"No, Lance." He shook his head, surprised that his anger had melted away.  "No.  We can't leave it unfinished."  He caught Lance's eyes in the reflection of the glass.  " _I_ can't."

If Lance's words had come close to breaking his resolve, then the sudden look of weary resignation that made his one-time lover wilt in defeat all but broke his heart.

Nearly too drained to be annoyed, Lance smoothed the palms of his hands up over his face, then slid his fingers through his rumpled hair.  "Fine.  Fine.  Whatever, Sven," he muttered half-heartedly.  "Go ahead, ask.  Right now, I don't give a damn what I say any more."

Sven turned around, startled at Lance's words.  "Ask?" Then, the words – the _look_ – that had been nearly forgotten in the heat of his anger came back. "Who was he?" he whispered.  "Did you love him so?"

A purely ironic smile spread across Lance's face.  "You wanna know the truth?  I never loved Shannon as much as I did you.  The difference was, when _he_ left me, it was because he was ordered to leave.  When _you_ left me to go to Pollux, it was because you _chose_ to go.  But, hey ... I don't expect you to believe me, anyway."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better, that you loved me more?  You _never_ told me about him ... you never told me you'd been with _anyone_ before us!"

"Well, excuse me!  Y'know, I don't recall you ever talking about _your_ past, either!  Besides which, I always had the impression you didn't _want_ to know.  Like you couldn't deal with it, or something.  Which is why I ..."  Caught with his mouth running away with him again, Lance sank back into the couch.  "Which is why I didn't want to say anything before.  Because I knew it would upset you.  Ok?"

"I'm upset because you never told me!" Sven found he was trembling.  "I never talked about my past because you never talked about yours.  If it was painful, I didn't want to dredge up old memories." Sven crossed his arms, glaring coldly across the room.  "I didn't think you'd rather just keep secrets."

One eyebrow went up.  "If it was painful?  _If_ it was _painful_??  So, you didn't want to dredge up old hurts _before_ , but all of a sudden it's ok to do that now?  Great!  Thanks a lot.  A really helpful frame of mind to be going into battle with right now!" 

Subconsciously, Lance mirrored Sven's stance, likewise folding his arms.  "I'm _not_ keeping secrets, because there's nothing _to_ keep secret, Sven!  So, I spent some time with this guy.  So what?  Yeah, we had a relationship ... a _sexual_ relationship, as it happens ... is _that_ what you want to hear?  So?  Since when did I claim to be all pure and innocent anyway?  And, it's not like you ever _complained_ about my abilities in that department, y'know.  Where'd you think I learnt all that?  From the back of a cereal box?" 

Now seriously incensed, Lance glared straight back.  "And, why the hell are we discussing _this_ _now_ , when you didn't even know about Shannon when you said earlier you wanted to talk?  Or is this just _another_ way for you to weasel out of whatever it was you _really_ came here to say?  Huh?"

"Weasel out?  _Weasel out_!" Sven took a step forward, balling his fists.  "When you told me to _ask_?  _Damn_ it, Lance, you are _not_ going to pin this one on me!  I came here to talk about _us_ , not your relationship with Shannon, whoever the hell he is!  I would have cared less had you come out and said something before, rather than having to find out this way.  Now you say it's not a secret?  How can I think otherwise, when you get such a look of ... of happiness, of _contentment_ on your face when you think of him?  What am I to think but that you've been pining for him all this time?”

He paused, and the words that had haunted him for this past year whispered in his mind again.  "He's who you meant, isn't he?" he asked, his tone suddenly gone quiet.  "He's who you meant when you said your relationships were all about leaving ..."

"Congratulations.  Give the boy a prize," Lance bit out scornfully.  "But, like I said, Sven ... he _had_ to leave, you didn't.  And that's why you're really here, isn't it?"

His sudden bark of rueful laughter surprised Sven to no end.  "And as for that 'look of contentment', you great bloody ninny, I was actually thinking how much both Cliff and Shan reminded me of _you_ , in some ways.  Except, y'know ... Shan actually _talked_ to me before he left, whereas you ...,"  With a deliberately challenging look, Lance left the rest of the sentence fall where it may.

"I _had_ to leave, Lance," Sven whispered, closing his eyes.  "I couldn't stay here and stay sane."

A soft snort was, at first, his only reply.  Then Lance's hushed voice cut through his private reverie.  "But you could go to Romelle?  And you say I've got secrets, Sven.  What about you?"

"I've kept no secrets from you." Sven opened his eyes again, and looked steadily at Lance.  "Maybe it was just that we shared the trials of Doom together.  I don't know.  Maybe Romelle was attracted to me.    I never asked and she never said.  I never _wanted_ her.  I _wanted_ you."

Sven turned away, then, his arms falling to his sides.  "You keep throwing it back at me that I never talked to you.  What would you have me say?  Did you want me to tell you about each and every torture those oh-so inventive Doomites devised just for me?  Did you want me to tell you that they didn't stop until I was so hoarse from screaming that they couldn't get their kicks from it any more? 

“Should I have burdened you with the feeling that I didn't _belong_ here any more?  Or, the worse thought, that _this_ was all a dream, and when I woke up, I'd be back on Doom, back to being the crazy man who lived beneath the Pit of Skulls?  Fine.  Now you have it.  Happy now?"

Without thinking, Lance sprang from the couch and took a step towards him.  "Yes, Sven, that's _exactly_ what I damn well wanted to hear, if that's what you were going through!  How the hell do you expect to salvage _anything_ if you keep me shut out?  I sit there and watch you, and I have _no_ idea what's going on inside your head, simply because you just won't let me!  All I can do is stand by, and do nothing ... because there's nothing else I can do!  Can you _really_ see me living like that?  Hell, you've only said all that shit right now because you want to make me back off ... yeah, you know I'm right. 

“But _you're_ the one who's pushing for this so-called 'reconciliation', so you're gonna have to damn well live with the consequences.  Because I simply can't live the way I did before. Gotit?"

Again, having divested himself of the burden that had weighed him down since they had discovered that Sven had survived Planet Doom, Lance’s indignation burned itself out and left him completely fatigued.  He collapsed dejectedly back onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.

“I can’t go back to that … I just can’t, and that’s that, ok?”  His weary, tired voice barely a whisper, he leant his head back and shut his eyes against the inevitable grief that was to come.

Sven studied Lance for a moment, imagining there was a faint glow about him from the force of his emotions.  Then he smiled sadly and shook his head, half turning towards the door as he did so.

After a momentary pause, he spoke.  "I didn't say those things because I wanted you to back off, you know.  I said them because I _can_ say them now.  And if you didn't know that . ..  then you were right, and I shouldn't have pushed this at all.  Because it's not worth the pain."

It seemed like he stood there for an eternity, back rigid with apprehension as he waited for Lance's reply.  He didn't even feel as though he had the courage to face him, not really certain of which way Lance would take his last remarks.

Finally, when the silence had dragged on longer than comfort permitted, he hazarded a peek over his shoulder.  He wasn't at all certain if he was relieved or disappointed with what he saw.

Somewhere in the last few minutes, Lance’s obvious weariness had apparently taken over ... he was asleep.

Sven sighed, and leaned over Lance's slumbering form.  "You never even heard me, did you?" he murmured.  Unable to stop himself, he trailed his fingers over Lance's pale cheek, and smiled when the other muttered and twitched.

Shaking his head again, this time at Lance's inopportune nap, he gently swung Lance around so his feet were on the cushions, and his head rested against the arm.  A brief search revealed a well-worn blanket, which he spread over the sleeper before quietly letting himself out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quiet, mechanical _hush_ followed by the snick of the closing door wormed its way into Lance's subconscious, niggling at him.  It wasn't long before his eyes fluttered open and he registered his currently horizontal position.

_What the ...?  Damn it, did I fall asleep?_ he thought crossly.  _Hell, Sven, I told you I was tired, but would you listen?!_

With a garbled groan, he sat himself up and was in the processes of directing his feet towards the floor when something occurred to him _.  Hang on ... wasn't Sven saying something?_   He paused, searching his foggy memory for even the tiniest snatch of the words his ex-lover had spoken.

When nothing came to mind, he absently scrubbed at his face, palms pressed against eyes in a vain hope it would help them focus,  then decided he should head for his own bed after all.

_Knowing how stubborn he is, it was probably the same old crap anyway,_ he rationalised as he ambled wearily from the room.  _I'll deal with it later.  All I want now is sleep!!_

The path to his quarters took him past the Control Room, something he did a dozen times a day with few surprises.  Tonight, however, was to be one of the exceptions.  His curious nature made him pause, firstly at the partial open door which was usually firmly sealed and then at the two crew members quietly talking inside.

Casually poking his head around the door, he waited a moment for a break in the conversation.  "Hey, guys," he interrupted softly.  "Can't sleep, huh?"

The sound of his voice clearly startled both Hunk and Pidge.  Pidge, seated on the control console, visibly jumped and Hunk spun the chair around.

Their expressions took Lance aback for a moment.   Hunk looked decidedly guilty, while Pidge's face was full of remorse, as if he was reliving a moment he much regretted.

"Guys? Are you all right?" Lance asked, stepping inside.

Hunk raised a hand in greeting, his expression clearing.  "Yeah, we're fine.  Just couldn't sleep, like you said.  So I said I'd take the watch from Coran."

"And I said I'd keep him company for a little while," Pidge added.

Inside, Pidge was groaning at Lance's untimely interruption.  It was almost as if he knew they were talking about him and Sven, and had appeared to take vengeance.  ‘ _Well,’_ he thought, considering Lance's actual appearance, _‘sleepy vengeance, but vengeance nonetheless.’_

"Fair enough, I guess," Lance replied, unsure of what else he was meant to say. 

He had the feeling there was a lot more going on here than what appeared on the surface, however, but he was too damned drained to worry about it right now.  And, as if to prove the point, he was caught by a sudden, jaw-splitting yawn that left both Hunk and Pidge chuckling in spite of themselves.

"Been sampling some of Haggar's sleep spells, have ya, Lance?" Pidge grinned.

"Ha, ha," Lance scoffed back with a wry smile, wishing he had something in his hand he could pelt his younger friend with right at that moment.  "Like any of Haggar's spells could sneak their way in here, anyway, brat ..."

About to add more, he was instead startled by the appearance of a group of lightning-fast, miniature inhabitants of the Castle, bolting between his feet and headed for their green-eyed interpreter as fast as they could scurry.

Pidge quickly scooped up an overwrought, excitable Cheddar as the tiny Space Mouse chirruped out his urgent message.  The boy's amused countenance fell rapidly to earnest seriousness. 

"I think you might have spoken too soon, Lance," he all but barked as his feet hit the ground at a run.  "C'mon!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_There’s nothing quite like seeing the stars from space,_ Sven thought, staring out the window.  Starry skies seen from a planet's surface were certainly beautiful, but it seemed they were spoiled, somehow, by the bright fall of moonlight, dimmed by the blot of a passing cloud, or simply dully reflected by some overreaching city.  Here, though, flying among them ... each star was bright and piercing ...

He sighed and shifted, bracing his shoulder against the wall, facing the window more fully.  It had been a long time, he realised.  Almost too long; he'd nearly forgotten the shiver of awe the sight always gave him.  The last time ...

_The last time you really looked at the stars like this, you were leaving Arus for Pollux._

Funny how his most condemning thoughts were in Lance's voice.

Lance.  He'd looked forward to seeing his friend – ‘ _God, that word hurts!’_ – had looked forward to a reconciliation.  Now it seemed that everything was ending.

_Face it,_ he thought, almost spitefully, _he's right.  You didn't talk to him for a year.  Even when you were together, you never really said what you felt.  You thought "I love you" was enough. _

Fine, I admit that I was wrong.  But still ... how can Lance say he loved me and not understand the kind of person I am?  That it just isn't easy for me to talk about my feelings, not to mention what happened on Doom? It hurts so to think that I've been agonising over this, what to say and how, and he thinks I just want him to back off from my comfort zone.

He glared out at the starscape, watching the twinkling light.  Then he blinked, frowning thoughtfully. 

There was a star winking where there shouldn't have been ... where there hadn't been just a moment ago.

_Wait a minute!  That's not a star; that's a ship!_  Quickly, he searched the field of vision afforded him by the window, and quickly counted at least a dozen more ships.  Instinct took over, and he dashed for the control room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coran groaned silently to himself as several warning alarms suddenly flared across all the controls.

Things had just gone from calamitous to disastrous, and now the situation had possibly turned to lethal ... all in a matter of minutes.

Cutting across the intense discussion between Lance, Pidge and Hunk on how the hell Haggar had managed to ‘convert’ herself to a spirit form in order to, apparently, steal away the Princess’ soul from within Allura’s very Castle, Coran spoke with his accustomed, cultured-yet-clipped manner in such situations. 

“We're under attack!  They're trying to stop us before we reach planet Akkarra."  With deft skill, he directed his fingers to an array of buttons on the console, and added determinedly. "We'll answer their challenge ... with these!"

He allowed himself a small smile of triumph as he hit the activation key to open the turrets of the mammoth laser guns which were intended to defend the Castle of Lions while in ‘space fortress’ mode.

At the quick reply of acknowledgment of the situation from the three remaining pilots on board, he swung around to stop their hasty retreat towards their Lions with a brief warning.

"Remember, while Keith is with Alfor, trying to retrieve Allura’s spirit, we’re in a vulnerable position.  Don’t take any unnecessary risks," he admonished sternly.

Lance threw him a cheeky grin.  "Would we do that, Coran?" he laughed a tad recklessly, a dangerous sparkle to his lively eyes as he and the other two dashed out the doorway.

The door had been empty for scant seconds when Sven pounded through it.  The tall Swede was slightly out of breath; it was obvious he'd been running for quite some distance.

"Coran!  I saw ships … " he panted.  "I was halfway here when the alarms went off.  There's a lot of them …" He trailed off when he saw the threat screen overhead.

"Why are there only three Lions out there?  What's going on?" There was a challenge in his voice.

As succinctly as possible, Coran outlined the situation.

Sven stared at him in shock for an instant.  "Well, damn it, give me the key to Blue Lion!  I've got to go help them!"

Coran gave a swift shake of his head.  "I don't think that would be advisable at the moment, Sven.  As I said, Alfor's taken Keith to help rescue Allura's spirit; you _might_ be needed for Black Lion, should it come to that.  You are certainly more skilled in that area than I.  And ..."

He paused to consider how to best phrase his remaining concern.

"And..?" Sven pushed urgently.

Coran sighed.  "Well, the fact is, Sven, while you might be more adept than I within Voltron itself, you've had little chance in the past year or so to upkeep your solo skills.  _Especially_ with a Lion."  His steady gaze fixed an irate Sven in place.  "Perhaps it would be best if we left it to the other three for the time being."

Sven scowled.  Everyone in the Castle knew that when Coran used the phrase, 'Perhaps it would be best ...', it nearly always meant, 'This is the way is shall be ...'

He turned away from the adviser before he could give in to the urge to throttle him.  "Then what's the sense of having a backup pilot?" he muttered furiously.  "Why am I here, if you're not going to let me fly?!"

"The situation has somewhat altered, young man, since that decision was made," Coran rebuked him coolly.  "It is one thing to have an extra pilot when all the others are present, or when only one is missing ... it's another thing entirely to potentially waste someone of your skills and talents when we are not one but _two_ pilots down, and all for your damnable pride!  Now, unless you can convince me as to why _that_ would be an acceptable risk, you shall sit there until I say so.  Understood?!"

Sven straightened, but did not face the older man again.  The words stung, but what stung more was the sense of truth in them.  Pride, was it?  No, he admitted silently, just the need to prove himself, to prove TO himself that he hadn't lost his skills, along with so much else on Doom.

To prove to Lance ...

So, instead of saying anything, he just shook his head and stalked to the door.  "Fine.  I'll man a turret.  Unless you have some objection to that?" The coldness in his tone envied that of space.

"None at all."  Somehow, Coran's calm reply rankled all the more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sven stormed down the corridor to the nearest wall turret.  _So much for being a backup pilot,_ he thought bitterly, climbing into the space with the monstrous gun.  He took an instant to examine the miniature threat screen, centred a Skullship in his sights and fired.  The fighter exploded in a fiery flower, but it wasn't as satisfying as he had hoped.  He quickly shot down another, then another, each burst punctuating his resentful thoughts.

_Supercilious bastard ... who does he think he is ... playing with me like that ... I'm a pilot ... not a bloody stupid grunt …_

In the clear for a moment, he quickly scanned space and found the Lions, ripping through the Doomite ships.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A flash to his left took out another skullship, making Lance scowl.

"I'll take one bet who _that_ is," he grumbled to himself.  "Can't leave well enough alone, can he? Noooooo!"

He flinched as a Doomite laser sheered a little too close for comfort, then dove in to take out the culprit with a vicious snarl.  "Piss off, ya bastard!"

He didn't know if it was the Skullship, or someone else he was referring to ... and right at this moment, he couldn't care less.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The momentary respite was over, as the skull fighters swarmed over the castle.  Reluctantly, Sven pulled his eyes from the Lions, and returned to studying his threat screen.

_I'm sure Lance didn't appreciate that, but …_ Being stuck in the castle, courtesy of Coran's stiff neck, it was the best he could do.

"Kyyyyyaah!" His battle cry echoing in the small space, Sven resumed firing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Damnit, Lance!"  Pidge's voice was strained and monumentally pissed off.  "Would you mind remembering we're on _your_ side!"

Lance grimaced and shot out a terse, "Sorry, ok!  Sheesh!"  Pidge was right; he'd have to watch it.  Taking out his friend with a couple of misplaced ion knives was _not_ going to help things.

_Hell, Keith ... why'd you have to do after Allura?!_

Momentarily distracted, he nearly missed Hunk's sharp warning to watch his right, before being rocked by the explosion of a skullship bursting apart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sven!" Coran's voice cracked over him though the com.  He sounded a bit angry.

_Good,_ Sven thought a bit sourly, _he can be just as angry as I am._ "What do you _want_ , Coran?" he demanded.  "I'm a little busy here!"

"Please direct your fire away from the Lions!  They do not need your assistance!"  The old adviser sounded quite put out.

Sven smiled, and flipped off the com.  "Oh, I'm so sorry, Coran," he murmured, taking aim.  "The communications link just cut out.  Didn't hear a word you said."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pandemonium broke out inside Red's cockpit.  Still shaken from the initial blast, Lance was trying to clear his head enough to register what was going on.  Warning lights flashed across the panel which, combined with a cacophony of squealing, beeping alarms and the desperate hails from Green and Yellow Lions, were making his stomach churn and his ears ring.

He could barely make out Hunk's attempt to get him to respond, and he _thought_ he heard Pidge giving Coran one hell of a serve about what the hell he thought he was doing, but that could have been sheer hallucinations.  Right?

He was just beginning to ghost his fingers across the controls to try and re establish some sort of order and hopefully figure out if any vital functions were out, when a second blast hit him, rattling his teeth in his skull and sending Red spiralling completely out of control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sven felt his heart thud hard in his chest.  Lance had left himself wide open, and one of the skull fighters had noticed.  It had plastered him a good one, and now Red was in a nosedive, legs flopping uselessly. 

For an instant – just one! – he considered the fact that Lance was arguably the best pilot of all of them, that this was just a ploy to draw in more fighters ... but when they flocked around him, firing at him almost tauntingly, he did not respond.

_Come on, Lance,_ he thought, watching, his fingers resting lightly on the trigger.  “Come on!  Pull out!”


	2. Chapter 2

Ignoring the throb threatening to split his head apart, Lance stabbed at Red's controls in a near frenzy, becoming more and more desperate for _some_ kind of response as the brutalised control panel refused to react.

"C'mon, Red ... not now!" he ground out, letting a few choice epithets loose as the sickeningly spinning mecha continued its reckless spiral.

He gagged suddenly as his harness straps slammed painfully into his body, barely noticing the eerie light surrounding him – a lurid blue shimmering into magenta – which had plucked his Lion from its free fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No!" Sven sat, stunned, watching as the three Lions were caught in some kind of beam, and reeled in closer and closer to the Skullships. 

Using all his strength, he hauled the massive gun around as far as its restricted range of motion would let it go, and began pounding away, hoping against hope that he would strike one of the three ships holding his friends immobile.  Every nerve in his body sung with fear for Lance.

“Come on, come on, get out of there, Lance ...” He repeated it over and over again like a mantra.  “Damn it, Coran, NOW they could use another pilot out there!”

_Would you have been able to avoid that?_ a voice taunted him in his head.  _Or would you have been paying too much attention to Lance’s flying to even notice?_

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered.  He saw with some dismay that his blasts were falling quite short, as the Skullships prepared to escape with their quarry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something snapped inside Lance when he realised what had happened; something he'd thought long dead and completely unnecessary on the team, in light of Keith's strengths as a commander.

They were out here alone, with no commander, not enough Lions and very little backup, what little existed being restricted by the size of the Castle-turn-spacecraft.  Damnit, they needed a _leader_ right now.

Checking that, at least, his communications were still active, he set about changing that situation immediately.

"Status!" he barked, not even recognising his own voice.  Some grim sense of amusement struck him at the look of shock on both Pidge and Hunk's faces, before they shook themselves free of it and their reports came flooding in.

"Tractor beam ... its got all three of us ... can't make out the frequency or strength, Lance ... its too erratic.  The best I can do is pinpoint its location at the moment," Pidge stated, sounding slightly in awe. 

"Hunk?"

"Damage report ... Red's taken it bad, but I guess you knew that already.  Green's holding its own, but Yellow's loosing power faster than I'd like.  If we're gonna do something, it’s gotta be fast."

"Well?  Are we going to sit here like lumps and let them take us?"

"Hell, no!"  came the instinctive shouts from the other two pilots.

Lance grinned.  "All right, then, team ... _Let's go, Voltron Force!"_

The grin turned feral as he trained the full stock of his missiles on the target area Pidge had pinpointed, knowing full well his two team mates were doing the same **.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even knowing it was having no effect, Sven could not stop himself from firing at the withdrawing forces.  "Damn you," he cursed, adding some invective in his native tongue for good measure.  He was completely unaware of the tears of anger rolling down his cheeks.

Suddenly, explosions bloomed against the bows of the Skullships.  He paused, and blinked in confusion.  _The guns don't have that range,_ he thought, a bit lost as to where the fire had come from ...

Then, finally, he saw that it was the _Lions_ , that _they_ were raining salvo upon salvo of missiles on the ships that held them hostage, that they had shaken off the effects of the beam weapon and were fighting their way free. 

“Yaaaaahoooo!” he yodeled, grinning like a madman and pumping a fist in the air over his head.  “Go, team!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hunk!  What've we got left on firepower?"

"A few rounds of missiles each ... ion knives ... the lasers, but not for long, though, coz power's running low ... not much else.  Sorry, Chief."  Hunk had the good grace to blush at Lance's pointed glare over that slip up.

"Pidge?"

"One quick strike should take out a few of 'em, if we do now."

"Right!  Let's do it, guys!"

He was just about to fire the propulsion jets to send Red bearing down on their attackers like some god of vengeance, when Coran's voice crackled over the intercom.

"We don't have time for that right now!" Coran's voice wavered slightly with the strength of his emotion.  "The Fleet of Doom has already reached planet Akkarra!"

This time, Lance's curse was caught on the wider communications, earning him a sharp rebuke for language from Coran.

"All right, all right ... we're coming in," he grumbled.  "Lance out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For many long moments after the Lions broke off pursuit, Sven sat in his turret, letting himself slowly come down off the adrenaline high.  _He’s safe, he’s safe …_ He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it, then covered his face, and was startled to find it wet.

He didn’t even remember crying, though he knew when it must have started.  He was trembling again, just from remembering the panic that had gripped him, seeing Lance trapped by that beam ... He shook himself and took several deep breaths, trying to centre himself again.

But his heart was still pounding too loudly in his ears when he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.  He had to have another go at Coran, to convince him that his skills were not so by the by as the older man believed.  _Next time,_ he thought, a bit shakily, _next time, I have to be out there with him ... I can’t stand to just watch …_

He stepped out of the turret, and collided with a body for the second time that day.  He stumbled backwards, catching himself awkwardly on the frame of the turret’s entry, and stared down at the object of all his thoughts.

Instinctively, Lance reached out a steadying hand towards Sven, only to let it fall away as he realised what he was doing.  "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey, yourself."  The words fell from his mouth with no conscious thought.  He let himself devour Lance with his eyes, noting that he looked even more weary, if it were possible, than he had when they started to have it out in the rec room.  He also saw, with a little shiver of dread, that Lance was avoiding his gaze, staring at the floor.

_If this goes on,_ Sven thought, with a sense of desperation, _we’ll never work anything out, either way.  _But that wasn’t what finally drove him to action.  Without hesitating for an instant, he grabbed Lance’s arm and yanked him into the turret.

Lance let out a startled yelp.  "Hey!" he protested, giving Sven a quizzical look.  "What's the big idea?!"

Rather than answering, Sven spun him around and pushed him into the chair.  Before Lance could recover, the Swede bent down, captured his face with his hands and kissed him.

For a moment, as Sven's lips ghosted over his own, Lance's eyes flared wide with surprise before slowly sinking shut.  The adrenaline high that had kept him focussed in battle quickly returned, inflaming more than just his long-suppressed yearnings.  Hands quickly slid to knot in dark, silky hair as he opened himself to Sven's devouring lips.

The fingers tangling in his hair did not surprise Sven nearly as much as the way Lance responded to him.  It was if no time had passed, and they were still newly on Arus, still learning about each other.  Instinctively, he increased the pressure, pressing Lance more firmly into the seat.  His tongue took up the invitation of Lance’s open mouth, and dipped inside to find Lance’s own.

_Slow down!_ The thought flitted briefly across his mind, but was overwhelmed by the sensation of just _touching_ the man he’d been without for so long ...

So much so that the shock was all the greater when Lance pushed him away firmly, extricating himself from Sven's searching mouth with a determination that was chilling.

No more chilling than the hard glitter in Lance's eyes, however.

"I suppose you think you're pretty clever." Husky sensuality warred with cold distaste in Lance's voice.  "But this doesn't change anything, Sven."

With that, he slipped out of Sven's stunned embrace and stepped back into the corridor.

“No, I don’t think I’m clever,” Sven whispered, closing his eyes and slumping against the wall in defeat.  He didn’t care if Lance heard him or not.  “And it wasn’t intended to change anything.  I … I was just so glad you were still alive …”

In his despondency, he didn't notice the slight pause in the other's retreating footsteps, or see the solemn, assessing glance sent in his direction.

As it was, neither had time to deal with any ramifications as Coran's voice crackled over the intercom once again.

"Could all required personnel please report to the Control Room.  We are approaching Planet Akkarra's orbit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sven straightened, as the request echoed away in the corridor.  Was he still required personnel?  He wasn’t sure any more.  But he stepped out of the turret anyway, and made his way reluctantly down the hallway.

His thoughts were mostly occupied with Lance, and the fact that he’d probably all but ruined any chance of a reconciliation, much less a resumption of their relationship.  _Why, why did I give in to that impulse …?_

The sight of the smoking base on the view screen in the Control Room brought him out of his stupor, though.  The attacks had been merciless; several of the domes had been reduced to rubble, and many of the ones still standing were far from intact.  It looked like it had been a slaughter, almost.

As he stepped up behind Lance, Hunk and Pidge, he heard Coran activate the com.  “Commander, we’re here to help you.”

“Thanks, Coran.”  The image of a heavy-set man of some years wavered slightly on the screen, replacing the carnage.  He looked frayed, as if he had been awake several days without any rest.  “They’re preparing to mount another offensive.”

Coran nodded.  “I’ll try to contact Hawkins.”  He pressed a few buttons on the console, adding, “We’ll see if their ship is out of the astral belt ...”

But rather than hearing Commander Hawkins’ familiar deep voice, nothing came from the speakers, not even static.   Coran bent his head, weighed by this sudden new grief.  “They didn’t make it through ...”

For all that he had known this was a possibility ... heck, a distinct _probability_ under the circumstances ... the impact of those words still sent Lance reeling.  On top of everything else – the battle, Red's little spin, Sven – it was almost too much.  It wasn't until he felt strong, familiar hands settle on his shoulders that he realised he'd been close to collapse.

"I need to get out of here," he mumbled thickly, turning to try and escape.  The body behind him stepped aside to let him pass ... and yet, something made him stop and look beseechingly into the man's impassive features.

"Sven?" he whispered in a husky plea for the other man to join him. 

Caught by the misery in Lance’s normally laughing eyes, Sven nodded, knowing what the other needed without anything further said.  “Ja.”

He had been surprised, so surprised, to see the colour drain so suddenly from Lance’s face, to see him waver and nearly fall.  He had friends on the Explorer, they all had.  He could see Pidge’s shoulders shaking with heartache he could barely contain, and realised with a start that Chip had also been on that ship.

As he followed Lance from the Control Room, part of his mind was running down the names of the pilots he remembered being on the other Voltron force.  Then his stomach did a flip as he grasped who _else_ must be on that ship, to evoke the reaction the news had from Lance.

The door of the rec room hushed open to admit the two men, sighing as it closed behind them.  Lance sank dejectedly into the soft cushions of the sofa and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

Sven sat down next to him, and carefully wrapped an arm around his shoulders.  "Tell me about him," he said, his tone gentle.

Some of the tension trailed away as Lance leant into the other man's strength, eyes far off and distant as the words just seemed to fall from his lips.

He talked of meeting Shan in one of his advanced classes, how he'd taken a liking to the older boy and his wicked, Irish sense of humour.  Of lazy weekends just messing around as teenage boys do, and long hours spent amusing each other in Study Hall and of good, honest friendship.

Sven said nothing, betrayed no reaction at all to the quiet words.  He just let Lance derive the comfort he needed, and lightly stroked the other's shoulder and upper arm.

Lance relaxed into the slight embrace more as he continued.

"You know, neither of us ever figured out how it happened," he murmured wistfully.  "I think one of us just ... well, sorta _crashed_ out at the other's place and we just ... well ... woke up together.  And things took their course from there, I guess.  Then one night turned into two, and before we knew where we were, we're your typical teenage couple.  And we had _fun_.  Oh, so much fun, Sven."

"Did you love him?" Hard as those words were, and regardless of Lance's assertions earlier, Sven had to hear this _now_. 

A sad look of reminiscence settled over Lance's expression.  "Yeah, in a way.  At the time, he was my closest friend as well as a lover.  But, y'know, now I realise that so much of what we'd thought as oh-so-illicit was really just so damn innocent, it's sweet. 

“And, yes ... before you ask, he was my first ... and, if Shan was to be believed, I was only his second.  It was just one of those tender teenage things that never had time to grow beyond what we had.  Y'know, one of those relationships that you think about fondly when you're old and grey and sentimental?"  He looked up, blue eyes wide and begging Sven to understand.

Sven smiled ever so faintly at his earnestness, and nodded.  “Ja.”  For a brief second, he squeezed Lance a bit tighter.  There was always a first time for everyone, and his held just as fond a place in his heart.

“And then ...?” he asked softly.  “He was given his orders?”

"Yeah. Before we knew where we were, the year had passed and he'd been called up to the Explorer, while I sat and cooled my heels another twelve months."  He gave his darker companion a tiny, wry grin.  "And _then_ all my troubles _really_ began." 

Sven snorted at that, giving him a smile that felt only slightly out of place.  Inside him, something relaxed that had been coiled up spring-tight for as long as he could remember.  “Oh, really?  Nothing but trouble, am I?”

Lance good naturedly thumped his outer thigh with a half-amused, half-annoyed smirk.  "Have you _any_ idea the hell you put me through?  The whole damn time I was feeling drawn to _you_ , I was so damned confused I'm surprised I didn't shoot myself in the foot at arms practice!"

Sven chuckled low.  “I find that hard to believe,” he replied, feeling his smile grow wider.  “You?  The guy who _always_ twirled his pistols before shoving them into imaginary holsters?”  He paused, and added, “And if you only knew the knots you tied in my stomach whenever we were in karate practice ...”

Lance gave a warm laugh.  "What a pair, huh?"  Slowly releasing a deep breath, he settled further into the crook of the encircling arm about him, snuggling his back against Sven's chest as he had done so many times in the past. 

After a moment, Sven slipped his other arm across Lance's waist and pulled him a little closer so he could rest his cheek comfortably against the vibrant, chestnut locks

"Do you think they're ok, Sven?"

Sven closed his eyes.  The question had been asked in a slightly quavering tone that simply begged for reassurance.  For a moment, he said nothing, feeling Lance stir nervously against him.  Trying to soothe him, he held him a bit closer, and whispered, “I don’t know.  I hope so.”

Lance eventually nodded slowly in reply, enjoying the comfort of having someone there to help him through this.

That thought prompted something else, and he frowned a little.  Turning partially in Sven's embrace, he said, "Do you think we should go see how Pidge is doing?"

Instead of answering, Sven loosened his arms just slightly from around Lance, and asked quietly, "Do you feel up to it?"

Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak, Lance levered himself up from the couch and held a hand out to Sven.  "Yeah.  I may have lost an old friend ... he could have lost a twin brother.  Sorta puts it in perspective, doesn't it?"

He nodded, and accepted Lance’s hand.  “But it’s still not easy to bear, no matter who it is.”  He searched Lance’s eyes for a moment, then smiled faintly.  “Let’s go.”

He was pleasantly surprised when Lance tightened his grasp a little, reassuringly, before leading the way back to the Control Room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They found the others much as they had left them in the Control Room.  Coran had moved to man the visual and radar scans, while Pidge had taken up the position at the communications point and was desperately screening the soundwaves for _anything_ that might resemble the missing Team.

“It’s no use.” Coran bowed his head.  “They didn’t make it through.”

“No!  There’s got to be another answer!” Pidge’s denial was evident.  “Maybe their signal’s being dampened by some force field.  Or maybe their communications are out.  Or maybe …,”

“Or maybe they’re trying to fool us?” Lance conjectured, trying to sound light and unaffected by any of this.  After all, only Sven knew of his connection with the other Voltron force.

Coran looked up and replied in a very sharp tone, “Lance! This is no time for jokes!”

Sven caught Lance’s wince a second before the Castle adviser.  Instinct made him want to step in and challenge the older man, while his head advised caution.  As it was, he had overlooked Lance’s tendency to make his own challenging comebacks.

“Who said I’m joking?” Lance snapped under his breath, earning him some odd looks from Hunk and Pidge’s directions.

Coran gave him a long, direct look, then sighed. “You’re right; I apologise.  I guess that was uncalled for. But the simple fact remains, we’ll have to fight _them_ alone.”

Lance’s bitter expression melded into that feral smirk the others had seen in the last battle.  “All right.  Let’s do it!”  With hard, dangerous eyes, he led the way to the Lion’s launch area.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Within moments, three Lions tore out into space, heading directly for the joint Drule/Doom command ship.

_Damn, you bastards_ , Lance fumed silently to himself as he took the lead.  _You will be paying for this, I promise you.  _No one _harms my friends … no one!_

As he checked over the array of lights and gages before him, he thought of Pidge and how much worse _he_ must feel.  _And you’ll be paying for leaving that kid without what was left of his family, as well … never you mind about that!_

Settings verified, he focussed piercingly on the event screen in front of him as the dark, forbidding enemy ships loomed closer.  “All right, boys … let’s get ready to tussle,” he announced, eyes glittering feverishly.

Seeing a chance to lighten the situation a little, Hunk grinned and winked at Pidge’s view screen.  “So let’s show ‘em some muscle?”

Pidge smirked back, distracted by the game.  “Hey, and some hustle!”

Lance glared at the pair of them.  “Very … funny,” he growled.

Pidge snickered.  “Hey, Captain … when you take the chair, you gotta take the flak that comes with it!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They didn’t have much time for joking after that; it was only a few short few moments to wait before the challenge of their appearance was answered.  One of the many bays on the strangely cumbersome looking command ship opened, and they saw a rhinoceros-like robeast paw the deck briefly before leaping out to attack.

The flurry was on.

Lasers flared every which way, with some deadly near misses as the robeast dodged each one.  In desperation, Hunk tried a sneak attack from behind, but misjudged the beast’s agility and ended up trapped between its hulking front hooves.

The explosions from spike bombs Pidge quickly released were enough to rattle the beast into releasing him, but also sent Yellow tumbling head over tail for some distance before he recovered.

Coran monitored this battle, as he had nearly every other since the space explorers had arrived on Arus.  He was studying the rhino-beast carefully, trying to gauge its weaknesses, if any.  His arthritic fingers moved over the console as quickly as they could manage, as he asked the computer to analyse different sections. 

“The rhino-beast is very powerful,” he muttered to himself, thinking that the three Lions needed some backup, and he turned to the worried Sven gripping the chair behind him.  “It might be time, Sven.”

Sven gave a quick nod and headed for the door.

“Lance … hold them back as long as you can,” Coran told him over a secure channel.  “Sven’s on his way.”

Lance’s wavy image on the screen did not look amused.  “What the hell do you think you’re up to Coran?!” he snapped.  “Sven’s _way_ out of battle practice.”

Sven stopped, barely three steps away from the door.  _What?_ He turned around to stare at Lance’s image in disbelief.  _I did_ not _just hear that ..._

It was one thing to doubt himself; quite another to hear that the others felt the same way.  Especially the one he most wanted to believe otherwise.

“And you need the help, young man.  Don’t forget who happens to be running this show,” Coran countered icily.

“Geez, and here I thought it was me,” the Red Lion pilot sneered back.

“Shows you how wrong you can be, doesn’t it?  Coran out.”  The perpetually unflappable statesman calmly cut the connection, leaving Lance seething in his cockpit.

He turned around and saw that Sven had not yet made it out the door.  There was a rather unpleasant colour to the tall Swede’s usually pale cheeks.  Coran sighed heavily.  “You heard, of course.” 

It was a statement of fact, not a question, but Sven nodded, his eyes furious.  “It vould have been bloody hard not tu!” he snapped, his accent suddenly much more prominent in his anger. 

Coran stood, and limped over to where he stood.  “Sven,” he began, trying to soothe his anger with a quiet tone.  “It’s a legitimate concern.  You have not been in a Lion for a year.  But,” he held up a hand, forestalling the imminent explosion.  “No, let me finish.  Skills get rusty, I know, but there is nothing like the knowledge that you are protecting people who depend on you – who care about you – to bring you back up to par.”  He smiled as Sven blinked, taken aback.  “Now, go on.  They’re waiting for you.  I’ll be right behind in Blue.”

Anger much mollified, Sven nodded, and took off down the corridor at a run.

Coran returned to the console for a brief moment, to make sure that nothing dreadful had occurred while he was giving Sven the reassurance he so obviously needed.  He had just found that the other three Lions were holding their own – just barely – when Cheddar raced in and up his coat sleeve.  The mouse started jumping up and down on his shoulder, chittering excitedly.

Hating to spare the time for mousy concerns, the old man asked, “What?” in a rather short tone, then, as the translation slowly wound its way into his mind, looked at the creature in astonishment ...   “They’re here?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sven had just changed into his uniform – felt so good to be wearing it again – and was about to clamber up onto Black Lion’s shoulder when Keith and the Princess arrived in the hangar. 

“Hey, Sven!”

Sven, perched precariously on a joint, glanced down.  Seeing Keith waving at him, and grinning, he felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment.  But rather than saying anything, he slid back down the Lion’s leg and approached his former Captain, hand out, displaying the key.

“Thanks.”  Keith took the key, then gripped Sven’s arm, giving him a rather wry smile now.  “I appreciate it,” he added in an undertone.

Sven nodded, and returned the pressure.  “Better you than me,” he replied, his smile somewhat twisted with regret.

Keith grinned, squeezed his arm once, and leapt up to the cockpit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jinking almost instinctively to avoid the heavy enemy fire, Lance found his thoughts drifting.  _Stop that,_ he told himself firmly, trying to keep at bay the sudden remorse he felt.  _It’s only the truth.  He has been out of combat for a long time ..._

_But_ , another part of his mind answered, _that doesn’t mean that you had say it like that, either._

A short battle raged in his mind as well as outside the cockpit.  _No! I'm sorry, Sven, but I can't risk it ... can't risk you getting hurt because of me again.  It's better this way, and I'm not going to feel guilty over this.  I won't risk losing you like that ... not again ..._

There was a definite smugness to the tone this time.  _Oh, really?  Why don’t you tell him that, then?_

He gritted his teeth.  _Shut up!  Just shut up!_  

Between the continual dodge, slash, burn of their dogfight and the worry about how Sven was going to handle being back in the action, it took a while for Lance to realise that the three of them were still out there alone. 

Angrily punching the buttons to open a link, he yelled, “Hey, Coran!  Where’s that damn backup you promised?”

“It’s on its way, Red Lion,” Coran called back.

“Don’t be so damned impatient, Lance,” a familiar voice came over the commlink.  “Anyone would think you were in a hurry or something!”

“Keith!” the pilots of Red, Green and Yellow chorused.

“What?  Don’t I get a welcome?” a feminine voice laughed.

“Hey, look who’s here!” Pidge cheered as Blue Lion and Black Lion joined formation right beside Lance.

“Well!  Glad you guys could make it!” Lance said, grinning.

“So are we, Lance.  Right, then … let’s get this show on the road, Team,” Keith purred. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More slowly than he’d left, Sven made his way back to the Control room.  Inside, he was more than just a little bitter.  _Well, there goes my shot to show that I haven’t lost it,_ he thought.  He slipped in silently, and took up his position just behind Coran’s chair again.  _Keith and the Princess save the day again.  God, I feel worse than useless._

Coran had opened the com to the Lions again, and was urging them with details of the three robeasts weak points.

_Three?_ Sven thought, startled, and looked at the threat screen overhead to confirm his ears were working properly.

Indeed they were; three robeasts were working on surrounding Voltron.  _Didn’t waste any time.  Good._ He nodded in grudging approval at the way Keith had taken charge so quickly.

Just then, a sharp crackling noise out of a nearby speaker made him jump.  He turned toward it, trying to make sense of the static, but no words came through.  The sound stopped as abruptly as it started.

Coran was staring at the speaker in wonder.  “That channel ... that was supposed to be linked only to ...” The adviser trailed off, and immediately resumed giving orders and encouragement over the com.

Suddenly, Sven thought ... he hoped he knew what it was.  For Pidge’s sake, for Lance’s ... he hoped it was the Explorer, hoped that they’d made it through the astral belt.

And never mind the way that his insides twisted up even more with dread, and fear, and loss.  All that didn’t matter.  _As long as the others are happy ..._ He closed his eyes and stepped away from the console.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lance winced as the blow of one robeast came dangerously close to him, but quickly pulled himself back into focus.

_No time to loose your head now, Lance ol’ boy,_ he mentally chided himself, smirking wryly at the unintentional pun.  _The odds are still against us._

Back in the thick of battle, he jumped visibly as he was suddenly startled by a harsh, crackling sound cutting across the airwave chatter between the Voltron members.  From the various complaints and curses that abruptly followed, he gathered he wasn’t the only one who found the noise somewhat headache inducing.

“What _was _ that, Coran?” Keith called out over the commlink.

“I’m not certain, Keith … trying to pinpoint it now.”  Another sharp hiss of static hissed across his reply, and all five winced again.  “The best I can say is it’s from an external source.”  Coran sounded wary, but strangely hopeful.  “I’m going to try and isolate the channel to the Castle direct.”

“Make it snappy, Coran,” Keith advised, calling out for the release of intercept missiles as he did so.  “That noise isn’t helping us any!”

The audible ‘click’ of a sound channel being redirected made them all sigh with relief.  “Ok … now that’s over, let’s get back to it!” Keith quickly regained their full attention and called for a series of laser, missile and spinning blade attacks.

Perhaps it was because his mind was so actively involved with their struggle for survival, but somewhere in the back of Lance’s consciousness a clear recognition of _what_ that static reception might be struck him like a lightening bolt.

_ External _ _source?  Could it be … Oh, Shannon, buddy … I hope you’re out there!!_

Inside Red Lion’s dim interior, a light flickered on asking for a private connection.  Lance hit the button quickly, catching a glimpse of Pidge’s guarded, semi-pained expression.  “Lance … do you think …?”  Lance quickly understood where Pidge’s concern was coming from, but wondered why he’d picked _him_ to contact.

_The kid knows something,_ he realised, then recalled his sudden departure when the news of the lost Explorer came through and kicked himself.  Of course the kid knew something!

“I don’t know, Pidge … let’s just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the …. _Holy shit!!_ “  Lance stared in horror as the robeast they had currently directed their firepower at _caught_ the spinning laser disks.

“Did he just catch …?”

“Yeah. Pidge … I think we’re in some serious trouble here!”

Back at Castle Control, Lance’s gritted, “He got us!” as shocks arced through the mighty Defender were the last they heard before Voltron went spiralling to the planet-side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sven clenched his hands into fists.  How he hated this.  Hated the fact that he wasn’t out in the war zone, hated the way his heart thudded in his chest, hated the feeling of utter helplessness that had taken him over.

_Come on, Keith,_ he thought, closing his eyes against the view on the screen.  But he could still hear the pained cries of his former team mates, and they tore his soul to pieces.  _Come on, get it together, fight back ... Lance, please ...  I need you to come back to me ... You can’t die out there, you can’t!_

The proximity alarms started to blare again, jerking him back the morass of fear he’d fallen into.  He turned to the radar con and took in the situation at a glance.  “Coran!  There’s another ship coming in behind the Drule fleet!”


	3. Chapter 3

_God, I hate this,_ Sven thought, striding down the sterile corridor and trying to control his nerves.  _I’ve had too much of doctors and sickbays and hospitals – enough to last me a lifetime._ The butterflies in his stomach urged him to turn back.

He took a deep breath and continued on nevertheless.  After he and Romelle had escaped Doom, and before he’d been allowed to return to Arus, rather a lot of his time had been spent in the hospital.  Ostensibly, it had been to make certain he’d contracted no serious illnesses during his time in the Pit of Skulls, but significant number of psychiatric practitioners had drifted his way.  He’d finally managed to escape, but the fear that Galaxy Garrison would declare him mentally unfit for duty had worried him greatly.

Eyes locked on the signs pointing the way to sickbay – for his feet would not carry him there automatically – Sven gritted his teeth.  _I will not remember ... that.  I will make this visit, no matter how much Lance won’t appreciate it._

_Damn it, Lance!  Why did you ..._ He shook his head, forcibly breaking off the thought.

His knuckles ached, and he realised that he was clenching his fists so hard that his fingers were turning white.  He tried to force himself to relax, but his body was having none of it.  He’d been in a state of tension since the battle had begun, and now through nearly two days of the aftermath.  His head was throbbing mercilessly.  This ... this was nearly the last straw.  He realised that, even though his steps had slowed he closer he’d come, he’d finally reached the entrance to sickbay.

_Deep breaths, Sven,_ he told himself.  _You can do this._ He paused for only a moment, then ducked inside.  Luckily, there were no doctors in evidence; there was no one about at all in the ward.  There were, however, several small rooms, no larger than closets, against the far wall.  Most of them appeared unoccupied, their doors wide open and hanging file holders empty.  Only one had any paperwork at all, and Sven approached that half-open door hesitantly.

Suddenly, a familiar peal of laughter rang out, bringing him to a halt.  _Lance?  What . . ?_ Lance’s laugh was echoed by another, one he did not recognise, though he knew who it must be.  Cursing himself for his uncontrollable jealousy, he peered through the crack by the hinge of the door.

He could see Lance, sitting comfortably on the bed, on top of the blanket, his back to the door, giving his usual mischievous grin to the occupant – a man of about his own age, propped up against a veritable mountain of pillows.

Something about the sight made Sven grind his teeth again. _Or is it just because it’s been so long since he laughed with you like that?_

“Oh, Jaysus, mate, stop it! It bloody hurts when I laugh!”  The injured man rested one hand on his ribs, but the pain didn’t keep him from chuckling.

“Hey, that’s what you get for charging in like that ...” Lance was still grinning, his nose wrinkled slightly.

“Oh, come on!  We were like gallant white knights ...”

Listening to their banter, Sven felt his heart drop into his stomach.  They were so much alike, much more so than he and Lance.  And despite all the reassurances he’d been given that it was over, he still couldn’t help but view Lance’s relationship with Shannon as a threat.  Especially watching them together like this ...

He could quite see why Lance had been attracted to Shannon.  The other pilot – dark haired like Sven himself – was quite handsome, with sea-blue eyes that twinkled with irrepressible good cheer.  His hair was quite short, but the style suited him better than if it had been longer.  His skin was milky pale, but Sven couldn’t tell if that was his natural tone, or due to the injuries he’d suffered in the battle.

_Of course,_ he thought bitterly, _the one who ended up with the most serious wound had to be him ... And Lance would, of course, come to the Explorer to visit him ..._

_And somehow, I end up spying on them ..._

Completely ashamed of his actions, Sven closed his eyes briefly, so he could no longer see their _camaraderie_.  He leaned against the wall next to the door, disgusted at himself for eavesdropping, but unable to stop himself.

A shaft of pain speared through him when Lance suddenly leant forward and carefully brushed a lock of the other man's hair from his forehead wistfully, and Sven's scowl deepened.

"You know, that was a pretty dumb thing to do," Lance's voice had turned soft and thick with emotion.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Shannon protested, smiling.  “I’m not in command of the thing.  But Jeff will be getting an earful later, I’m sure.”

Sven rested his head on the wall, staring up at the ceiling.  The team from the Explorer had appeared unexpectedly, from the ship that stole in behind the Drule fleet, and had rescued the Arusian team from the four robeasts pinning them down. 

Sven was certain that Shannon had sustained his injuries from being rattled around in his cockpit when Jeff had swung a kick at one.

"Damn right, he will," Lance growled.  His fierce look began to shake a little as he sat, now stiff and unmoving.  Unspoken tension began to hum in the air, until Lance caved in altogether and reached out to enfold Shannon in a strong, careful embrace. 

"Don't you _ever_ do anything like that to me again, k?" he groaned tearfully.  "I thought you were dead!"

 “Here, now.”  Moving cautiously to avoid aggravating his wound, Shannon put his arms around Lance, and drew the chestnut head to rest on his shoulder.  “That’s not anything we had control of,” he said softly, rubbing a hand up and down Lance’s back, trying to soothe him.  “The asteroids knocked out our long range radio.  We didn’t mean to scare you guys like that, really.”

Then, with a wicked grin, he continued, “Though it did make for a hell of a warm welcome, didn’t it?”

"Ooh, you!" Drawing back with a mock glare, Lance threatened his long-time friend with one fist.  "I'll give you bloody warm welcome!"  Then, caving to temptation again, he pulled Shannon into a tight hug ... well, as tight as he dared, under the circumstances.

Shannon grimaced, as Lance applied a bit more pressure than his ribs could comfortably stand, but said nothing.  “It’s all right,” he said quietly, embracing Lance again.  “We’re all safe.”

Burying his face in that midnight hair, Lance shifted his arms a little to allow Shannon to settle more comfortably against him.  "It's been too damn long, Shan.  Not since ...,"

“I know.”  Shannon closed his eyes, resting his head against Lance’s shoulder.   His lips twitched upwards in a small smile.  “Much too long.”

Lance's own lips settled into a smile of contentment, and he was a little surprised to find himself rocking the other gently.  Mirroring Shannon's action, he lay his head carefully against the firmness of Shannon's shoulder and enjoyed the moment they had managed to grab together.

"You know, I didn't lie.  I really _did_ miss you," he murmured finally, sitting back a little to look Shannon face to face. 

Shannon gave him a wry smile in return.  “As if I couldn’t tell.”  Then he sobered, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Lance’s.  “I missed you, too,” he whispered.  “Every time I heard or saw something that would have made you laugh, I turned to tell you, and then remembered that you were still back at the Academy.  It ... it was like losing my best friend every day.”

Lance nodded.  "Yeah, tell me about it.  Something’d happen, and I’d find myself halfway out the door to find you before I’d realise we weren’t even at the Academy any more.  And let me tell you, there were a few times I coulda seriously bent your ear about things,” he finished with a rueful grin.

Shannon sat up again, smiling.  “Like what?”  At Lance’s slightly uncomfortable look, in a more serious tone, he added, “I’m here now, ears ready to be bent.  I’m still your friend.  Talk to me.”

Outside, Sven took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  _Remember,_ he thought sarcastically, _eavesdroppers seldom overhear anything pleasant.  You’ll only hear what you deserve to hear._

Lance looked away, shaking his head and grinning slightly.  "Well, remember that guy you wasn't sure if you wanted me to find?  Well, I did."

When Lance paused for an uncomfortably long time, Shannon finally tilted his head and twitched an eyebrow. "And...?"

Lance gave a half-amused snort.  "And then I lost him.  And now he's back again."  Giving Shannon a tight little smile, he shrugged uneasily and carelessly said, "And that's all."

Both eyebrows raised to his hairline, Shannon replied, “With you, nothing’s ever that simple.  Out with it.”

Lance groaned.  “Oh, if only you _knew_ , Shan!”

It didn’t take much prompting from the dark-haired man in the hospital bed before the entire story tumbled from Lance’s lips.  Of course, being Lance, such a story came complete with wild gesticulations and frequent pacing around the small medical bay room, and several times Sven was certain he was about to be uncovered.

But mostly, he was too caught up in listening to Lance’s recital.  He was staring at the ceiling again, in shock this time rather than despair, listening to the rise and fall of Lance’s voice like the sound was entirely new to him.

And it was – well, at least the words he was hearing were entirely new.

Despite the things they had said in the rec room, while Lance was trying to deal with Shannon’s supposed death, it made his heart pound again, just as it had the first time he’d seen the auburn-haired boy, to know that Lance had felt the same way about him.  It made it _real_ , somehow.

“And I couldn’t tell anyone, y’know?  Because there was no one I was as close to as you, Shan, and you were gone ...”

Sven felt a stab of pain at that, to know that the boy who had seemed so popular among his peers really didn’t have as many close friends as he’d thought.  It made him even gladder that he’d made the first move, that Lance had grinned and accepted his offer of studying together that first time.

Then Lance fell silent for a moment.  Sven strained his ears.

“And then ...” Lance’s voice hitched, and the bedsprings creaked as he flopped back down.  “Then ... he got hurt ... and it was my fault ...”

Through the door, Sven could hear the rustle of fabric and a soft susurrating murmur.  He peered though the crack again, and was unsurprised to find that Shannon was holding Lance again, crooning comfort into his ear.

“No, it was!  I ran off after Haggar’s damned blue cat, and he followed me, and ... and . ..”

Sven bent his head.  _No, Lance,_ he thought, closing his eyes.  _It’s not your fault at all.  It was my own pride.  I thought I could take her …_  He’d never known that Lance felt so guilty over something that he’d never even considered blaming his lover for.

The rest he knew; he recognised the bitter tone in which Lance spoke of him returning from the dead only to leave again for Pollux, and accepted the pain and self-reproach that it brought him, to know he’d caused so much hurt to the one he’d loved. 

_I’m sorry, Lance._ He directed his thoughts into the room, knowing that neither would hear, but having to offer the apology regardless.  _I had to leave, but I’m so sorry I hurt you …_

The quiet held as all three men absorbed the things that had been spoken.  Then Lance added softly,  "That's why ...," but paused again as the weight of his thoughts silenced him.

"Why what?" Shan asked after a moment.

"I .. well, I think I hurt him the other day, when we were out fighting.  Coran wanted to send him in, and ... well, you could say I reacted kinda badly."

“Oh, you did, did you?  What happened?”

And, again, the tale just spilled out, the things he had said, and what Sven must have thought of it, and how guilty Lance felt over it.

"But .. Shan, I just couldn't let him do it.  The last time, it nearly destroyed him ... and came damn close to destroying me in the process.  I couldn't live with myself if something happened again, regardless of anything that's between us.  I trust him, I do ... it's just ..."

Sven took a quiet step back, feeling his heart beating far too fast again.  _He ... he was trying to ..._ He pressed a hand to his chest, and tried not to smile.  After all, Lance hadn't said that he still loved him ... Unable to stop himself, he peered into the room once more.

Shannon stroked Lance’s back, murmuring reassurance.  A flicker of movement outside the door caused him to glance up, though he did not alert Lance.  After a moment of stillness, he’d convinced himself that he’d just imagined it, when it came again.  He saw a black clad figure step silently away, and grinned, guessing at who it must be.  He knew for certain when a startled grey eye peeked through the crack in the door.

“Lance,” he said, coaxing the other’s head off his shoulder again.  Lance seemed startled by his grin.  “That wouldn’t be your Sven outside the door, by any chance?”

Immediately, Sven prepared to retreat.  Lance’s wrath would be ...  frightful.  To say the least.

Lance's rueful voice stopped him.  "Ok, wise guy ... how long've you been there?"

Before Sven could even work his mouth to formulate a response, Shannon replied, “Oh, he just got here.  Didn’t you?”  When a choking sound was his only answer, he grinned even more widely.  “Och, just come into the bloody room, will ya?  It’s no good talking through a door.  The two of you’ve been doing enough of that lately,” he added in an undertone.

Sven stepped around the open door, his cheeks flushed pink.

Lance swivelled where he sat on the bed, rumpling the covers as he did so, much to both Sven and Shannon's individual amusement.  "Sven," he said in acknowledgment, a long, drawn out tone that could either be wry humour or extreme annoyance.

Sven nodded back, just as cautiously. "Lance."

Shannon looked from one to the other, seeing their wary gazes, then threw his hands up, surprising them both.  "Oh, for the love of Mike!  No wonder you're where you are, Lance!  Will you just _talk_ to him, you great bloody loony?!"

Sven folded his arms and shifted his weight onto one foot, the perfect pose to kink an eyebrow at Lance and remark, "He does have a point, you know.  Perhaps we should ...?" 

With a quick jerk of the head, he invited Lance to follow, and twitched the eyebrow again, questioningly this time.

Lance sighed, switching his gaze from Sven to Shannon and back again.  "Well ... maybe."

Shannon snorted and pushed Lance to his feet.  "Maybe nothing!  Just go!"  In a softer tone, he said, "We can catch up later.  This is more important."

Lance grinned sheepishly and started moving towards the door.  "Ok, ok .. I know when I'm beat.  I'll be back, k?"

He stopped right beside Sven, bright blue eyes locking with grey.  "Coming?"

Again, Shannon answered before Sven could.  “He’ll be along in a minute.  I’ve got something I need to tell him first." He smiled at Lance, making no attempt to disguise his impish humour.

Lance cast a wary look between them again, finding little comfort in Shannon's mischievous look or Sven's dark gaze.  "Just remember, you two play nice, ok?" he warned, then left his two former lovers to 'talk'.

“’Play nice’, he says.”  Shannon snorted as Lance shut the door behind himself.  “It’s like he doesn’t trust us!”  His grin grew wider as Sven’s scowl deepened.  “Now, what did you want to say to me?”

Sven blinked, thrown off balance.  “You said . ..”

Shannon shrugged, and leaned back against his pillows.  “I only said that so Lance would leave.  You looked about ready to tear me a new one, and I knew he wouldn’t go if you asked.  I’m just giving you the opportunity.”  He arched one eyebrow.  “So.  Go ahead.”

Sven took a deep breath.  “I ... I never even knew that Lance had had another lover before he and I got together.  He never said.  When I found out ...”

“You got jealous, naturally.” 

Sven nodded, face reddening again.

Shannon leaned forward again, wincing a bit.  “Look, mate.  You’ve got nothing to worry about.  Lance and I worked out our feelings on this a long time ago.  And I know he told you that.  So if there’s nothing else ...” He made a motion with one hand, pushing Sven out the door.  “He’s waiting for you, you know.  And has been for too damned long.”

 “I know.  Since you’re right, and I do have something to say, I’ll make it quick.”  Eyes blazing, Sven took a step forward and bent down until his face was just inches from Shannon’s.  “Stay away from him.”  His accent was very thick, and his voice purely radiated anger.  “He’s mine.”  Immediately, he pulled away and marched out the door.

For a moment, Shannon sat stock still, staring at the empty door, then laid back and howled with laughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor, Lance looked up from where he stood, back against a wall and studying the cracking in the tiles.

"Hey," he said softly in greeting as soon as Sven was close enough.

Sven managed a slight smile in return.  “Hi.”  Then he sighed and looked down at his toes.  “You know, don’t you, that I was there a bit longer than Shannon implied?”

Lance gave a short laugh.  "Yeah .. I'm not completely dumb.  And Shan can't lie for quids!" 

Hands still buried in his pockets, as always, he looked up at the ceiling for a long, assessing moment, then gave Sven the same head-tilting invitation to walk with him as Sven had done a few minutes before.  "There's a private waiting room down here, if you wanna get more comfortable?"

Sven nodded, and followed him in silence down the corridor a short distance, to the small room Lance had indicated.  Once there, he waited for Lance to find a place to perch, then went over to the window, giving out on the planet far below.

It was eerily similar to their aborted conversation of two nights ago.  Sven recognised this, but could find no way to change it.  Except ...

“I’m sorry.”

He heard Lance's heavy sigh behind him, but didn't move.

"I don't know if it's worthwhile saying this or not, Sven, because I'm pretty sure I know what the answer will be ... but, for which bit?"

“All of it.”  Sven closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t be able to see Lance’s reaction in the window.  “I’m sorry for not talking to you.  I’m sorry for leaving you.  I’m sorry for coming back just when you’d be least likely to want to try to work things out.  Just ... all of it.  I’m sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper when he finished.

He heard rather than saw Lance get up and start wandering around the room, restlessly.  He had to steel himself against the expected onslaught of Lance's well deserved ire.

It came as a surprise, then, when Lance came to a stop somewhere close behind him and spoke in hushed, halting tones.

"You're not the only one who's been a prick over this, Sven.  I know I haven't made it easier on you, and I had no right to do that.  Sven ... look at me, will you?"

Slowly, reluctantly, Sven did as he’d requested, and Lance was startled to find that the grey eyes glittered suspiciously bright with tears.

Upon seeing his reaction, Sven tried to turn away again, but Lance grabbed his shoulder and drew him back around.  He drew a breath to speak.

“I ...I never meant to hurt you,” Sven said in a rusty voice, before Lance could utter a word.  “That was the last thing I ever wanted to do, and I did it – still do it – every time ...”

"Hey," one hand rose to cup at the nape of Sven's neck, curling beneath the silky dark hair.  "I know that, ok?  I do.  It's just that ... well ... while you had all that time with Romelle to work things through, I didn't have anybody.  It's made it kinda hard to let things go, y'know?  But, Sven, it wouldn't hurt so damn much if I wasn't still in love with you."

Tugging Sven a little closer with that insistent hand at his neck, Lance leant his forehead against the other man's, glittering wet eyes meeting each other's as Lance gave his wry grin.  "And, _damn_ , but that sounded sappy!"

A smile trembled threateningly at the corner of Sven’s mouth.  “Ah, your secret’s out now!” he breathed.  “Underneath it all, you’re just a sentimentalist.”  Emboldened slightly by the contact, he raised an arm to circle Lance’s waist.  Even though this caused no protest, he didn’t push any further.  Just the fact that Lance was touching him, and letting him touch in return, was enough.

“Sappy though you think it is,” he said, his voice a bit steadier, “I’m glad.  I still love you, too.”

Lance smiled sadly.  "Ok, so at least we both know where we stand.  I can't get over you, you're still in love with me." He took a much needed breath, then asked, "So, what're we gonna do about that?"

Sven closed his eyes again.  "What would make yu happiest?" he countered softly.

The pressure on Sven's neck eased as Lance's hand slid away, only to appear along with its mate on either side of his waist, grasping firmly to his shirt-tails as Lance shifted to rest his forehead against his chest.

"Honestly, I don't really know," he heard him say softly.  "I don't know if I'm ready to let you walk back into my life, because I know damn well I won't cope if you choose to walk back out again.  So, I guess ... you've got to make a decision, here, Sven."  Solemn crystal-blue eyes looked up at him.  "How much do you want this?"

The smile that had been threatening stretched wide, though it wavered a bit.  "The only thing I've _ever_ wanted more than this," he whispered huskily, "was for you to agree to that first study session we had together."  He pulled away, straightening, and used his free hand to lift Lance's chin.  "Please," he said, his eyes begging.  "Please."

Lance chuckled lightly.  "Hell, we're a pair, aren't we?"

Then, to Sven's complete surprise, Lance reached up and dragged him downwards towards a sweet, almost chaste kiss.

It was over before he could really respond, which, he decided, was a good thing.  His lips tingled from the touch.

Then he smiled, and met Lance’s dancing eyes.  “Hi,” he said quietly.  “I’m Sven.  Would you like to study with me for Professor Wilkin’s test tomorrow?”

"Hi, Sven," Lance replied, barely suppressing his grin.  "I guess that'd be ok."

Sven responded with his own grin.  "Great.  Seven o'clock?  Do you want to meet in the library?"

Shaking his head a little, Lance give him an odd look.  "Sven, this is really dumb ... you do know that, don't you?"

He yelped and twisted away as Sven's fingers somehow found their way to his ribcage, the tall Swede grinning wickedly.  "Ok, ok!  Seven's fine!"

"Sorry, got a little caught up in the past."  His grin faded a bit.  "But I'd like to get started on the right foot, this time.  Is ... is that all right?" His voice quavered, making his uncertainty plain.

Strong, corded arms slid carefully around his waist.  "You know, you didn't get off to such a bad start the first time.  That is, unless you mean you'd like to go back and actually _study_ for that test, instead of flirting around the way we did," Lance grinned, tilting his head a little in that endearing habit of his.

Sven chuckled, and embraced him.  "I don't know ... I think I got more from the study session than I ever learned in that class.  You flirt like a champion."

Lance snickered, leaning into the embrace further.  "So, we're really going to give this a shot?"

Sven nodded.

"And you and me, we're _both_ gonna do a bit more talking than before?"

Sven winced at the reminder.  "You'll have to gag me to shut me up.  Promise."

"Hey," a finger poked him none-to-gently in the side, "I did say _both_ of us, right?  I'm saying I screwed up as well, so I don't want you beating yourself up over that, ok?  Now," snuggling his hips in closer to Sven's, Lance smirked.  "There's just one last thing."

Sven tightened his arms a bit, bent his head to catch the scent of Lance's hair.  "Ok.  What's that?"

He let out a startled 'ow!', wincing even more at the red marks Lance's annoyed slap was bound to leave on his buttocks later. 

"Don't you _ever_ send me out of a room so you can intimidate my ex-boyfriend again!  Got it?!"  Even though his eyes sparkled, there was enough serious in them for Sven to get the message.

"Hey, that wasn't _me_ ," Sven protested weakly, resisting the urge to rub at the offended area.  " _He's_ the one who asked _me_ to stay ..." Seeing Lance's glare intensify ever so slightly, he sighed.  "All right.  The next time I meet one of your ex-boyfriends, I won't send you out of the room.  I'll just intimidate him while you stand there." 

It earned him another slap on the rear, but it was well worth it to hear Lance laugh again.


End file.
